So What?
by Manu
Summary: "Right, this is getting stupid. Ginny, *you* can go with Harry and I'll just--" How awful is it to have a prat for a brother, and a crush on his best friend? Oh, let me count the ways. Ginny's POV of the scene in GoF.


**A/N**: My dearest friend Voldeobum said, and I quote, _"I would like to read the... 'Ron-telling-Harry-to-take-Ginny-to-the-ball'-scene in GoF from Ginny's POV."_ Well, your wish is my command, Milady.

        So, this fic is dedicated to her, who's lurvely and who gave me the plot bunny, and to Tasnim, who's just too darn cool. Hee.

         About "When Words Aren't Enough": I'm having trouble with the twins, but as soon as they start cooperating, chapter seven will be out. 

**Disclaimer**: This time, I don't even own the dialogue. Well, I own a teeny tiny little part, but I don't think that even counts. Gah.

                                                                                                                                    ~o~

Ginny knew she was lucky to be going to the Yule Ball with Neville; he was kind, sweet, and considerate, and it was awful of her to have had second thoughts about accepting his invitation.

So what if he wasn't Harry Potter?

She sighed and went to put her stuff in her dormitory. Neville had approached her just a few minutes ago, while she did her homework, and, although she had been terribly flattered, there was still a small part of her that was holding on to the stupid hope that Harry would ask her.

That was all it was, though: stupid. Harry would probably never see her as more than his best friend's little sister, and Ginny was almost all right with it.

She returned to the common room, and the sight that greeted her there made her eyes widen.

"Erm, Ron, why are you banging your head against the wall?"

Ron stopped and looked at her, pale-faced and desperate-looking.

"I don't know what made me do it! I swear I don't – she was just – out of my _mind_ – oh, bollocks!" He hit his forehead on the stone wall again.

"Ron, stop!" said Ginny.

He stopped, but didn't move.

"Come on, sit down." Ginny pulled him to a lounge chair, in which he threw himself. "Tell me what the problem is," she said, sitting down next to him.

"_The problem_?" said Ron frantically, rubbing his forehead and almost ripping his hair off. "I'm a stupid, idiotic prat, that's the problem! Why did I _do_ it?" he moaned.

He tried to stand up. Ginny pulled him down by the arm.

"Calm down," she said. "Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened."

"You know Fleur Delacour, that amazingly drop-dead gorgeous woman who'd never look my way in a million years?" He ran his free hand through his hair about seven times in quick succession.

"Yes, I know her," said Ginny, letting go of him. He tried to get off the chair, and she grabbed his arm again to pull him back. "Calm _down_, Ron!"

But he wouldn't. Ron seemed desperate to go bang his head against the wall some more.

"I told Harry that – I told Harry we'd have dates by tonight, and – and I was passing her –"

Ginny goggled at him. "You didn't!"

"I did," said Ron, burying his face in his hands and groaning, "but it wasn't as if – I didn't mean to – oh, _damn_. Just damn."

Ginny tried to refrain from snorting; she couldn't help but find it immensely funny when her brother made a fool of himself.

"Oh, Ron – and what did she say?"

Ron looked up at her sharply. "_What did she say_?" he snapped. "What did she say! What the _hell_ do you _think_ she said??"

Ginny started patting the arm she had been grabbing. "Look, it's not that bad."

"Of course it's that bad! The look on her face! The whole school watching!"

"It'll be okay... calm down… breathe," she said, trying to be comforting despite her need to laugh.

It wasn't working at all.

"What's up, Ron?"

Harry.

Of course, he was addressing her brother as if she weren't even there, but she was used to it. It didn't even upset her anymore.

Well, not quite as much as it used to, anyway.

"Why did I do it?" said Ron, in a comically fretful voice that was enough to cheer her up. "I don't know what made me do it!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Ginny looked at her brother, who didn't seem like he wanted to talk anymore about his incident, and tried – _tried_ – to sound solemn as she announced, "He – er – just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him."

"You _what_?" said Harry, goggling at Ron pretty much the same way Ginny presumed she had when she had first heard.

"I don't know what made me do it!" repeated Ron, like an accused man claiming insanity. "What was I playing at? There were people – all around – I've gone mad – everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall – she was standing there talking to Diggory – and it sort of came over me – and I asked her!"  __

He moaned, and his face was back in his hands. Ginny started stroking his arm. She _did_ feel sorry for him, and felt horrible for wishing she could have been there to see the scene.

"She looked at me as if I was a sea slug or something," said Ron, through his fingers. "Didn't even answer. And then – I dunno – I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part veela," said Harry. "You were right – her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it – but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang."

Ginny smiled slightly to herself; Harry had done it. Ron'd stopped twitching in his seat and didn't seem to want to commit suicide anymore. He looked interested at the mention of Cho.

"I asked her to go with me just now, and she told me."

_Oh._

It wasn't so much what Harry had said as it was the _way_ he'd said it, heavy and resigned, that bothered her.

She willed herself to stop being pathetic. He was saying that he _wasn't_ going to go to the ball with the girl, and, anyway, Ginny already had another date, and Harry wouldn't ask her even if she didn't.

All the same, it hurt more than she'd like to admit.

"This is mad," said Ron. Before starting to hope that he'd say anything to take her mind off the Harry business, Ginny should have suspected he'd just make things worse: "We're the only ones who haven't got anyone – well, except Neville."

Ginny let go of his arm. She wasn't looking forward to seeing her brother's expression when he found out that Neville _did_ have a partner, and that she was it.

"Hey, guess who he asked?" said Ron, delighted. "_Hermione!_"

"_What?_" said Harry, his eyebrows shooting up and disappearing under his messy black hair.

"Yeah, I know! He told me after Potions!"

Ginny stared at her feet, trying to ignore Ron's laughter. She was glad he had got over his distress, but... oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to hit the git for sounding so amused.

And then Harry started laughing, too. Ginny took a deep breath to keep herself from reacting.

"Said she's always been really nice," continued Ron, oblivious, "helping him out with work and stuff – but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville… I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" snapped Ginny, having had more than enough. " Don't laugh –"

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" Hermione had just entered the common room and joined them.

"Because – oh shut up laughing, you two – because they've both been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" Ginny said, and they stopped laughing.

Oh, it had definitely felt good to rub it in their faces – in _Harry's_ face, especially. He hadn't done anything but laugh, but the fact that he thought it was funny affected Ginny more than her brother's insults ever could.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron resentfully.

Hermione, who looked irritated despite having just arrived, exchanged a look with Ginny and then said, in pretty much the same satisfied rubbing-in tone of voice Ginny had just used:

"All the good ones taken, Ron? Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere_ who'll have you."

Ron didn't seem annoyed. If anything, he looked like he was considering what Hermione had just said: _someone somewhere_… someone right in front of him...

"Hermione, Neville's right – you _are_ a girl...."

Ginny rolled her eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed of sharing his blood. She was just getting more and more frustrated with the male species today. 

Hermione seemed to share the sentiment. "Oh, well spotted."

"Well – you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione. 

"Oh come on," said Ron, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

Hermione blushed. "I can't come with you, because I'm already going with someone."

Viktor Krum. Hermione was going to the Yule Ball with Viktor _Bloody_ Krum, Ginny thought proudly. 

She remembered how Hermione had told her about it a few days ago, looking surprised, and pleased, and repeating, _"Ginny, I still can't believe it!" _every ten seconds.

Ron didn't seem to believe that Hermione was going with another bloke either.

"No, you're not! You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

Ginny winced. It didn't matter what Ron _wanted_ to be the truth. It wasn't a good idea to doubt that Hermione – or any female, for that matter - was capable of getting a date.

"Oh _did_ I?" said Hermione, rightfully furious. "Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one _else_ has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at Hermione as though he didn't know what to make of her.

Ginny looked at Harry. It wasn't the first time she noticed how utterly fascinated he seemed to be by Ron and Hermione's dynamic. It was true, sometimes it seemed like the two of them got so wrapped up with each other that they forgot the rest of the world, but Harry acted as if… as if he would be _intruding_ if he opened his mouth. He seemed perfectly happy to just watch them.

Harry smiled slightly. Ginny turned to his friends – Ron was grinning at Hermione.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl. That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you! I'm going with someone else!" exploded Hermione, turning and making an impressive exit to her dormitory.

Ron watched her leave. "She's lying," he said, turning to Harry and Ginny.

"She's not," said Ginny, more to herself than anything – but Ron heard her.

"Who is it, then?" he said, almost as if defying her.

Ginny lifted her chin. "I'm not telling you, it's her business." _And you don't deserve to know, prat._

Ron looked offended, but didn't protest.

"Right," he said, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, _you_ can go with Harry, and I'll just--"

"I can't," interrupted Ginny, before she could think too much. She felt herself going red – oh, would the torture never end? "I'm going with – with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She felt as if she'd combust, right there, if she didn't leave right now. "I think I'll go have dinner."

Her first instinct upon stepping out of the common room was to imitate Ron and hit her head against the corridor wall.

Ron knew. Ron _knew_ how she felt about Harry, and he had the gall to just… offer her to him, as if she were a piece of homework to copy. As if it were only business. Well, it might be only business to _them_, but it still didn't give him the right to… to do that.

Of course, it was obvious that his little sister would always be available to Harry Potter, since his little sister had had that very amusing crush on Harry Potter for years, wasn't it? He didn't even stop to think that his little sister might have _feelings_, oh no, why would he think that?

It was extremely satisfying to prove him wrong. _No, Ron, your little sister is _not_ always there for you to do whatever you want with her. Your little sister went and got herself a date._

She laughed dryly. Ironic, wasn't it, that her brother offended her profoundly by assuming that she'd do what he wanted, and yet, if she could, she'd have done what he told her to in a heartbeat? That she wanted so much to go on this arranged date that it hurt?

Harry didn't seem to be of the same opinion. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't even want to think about Harry's reaction – or rather, lack of reaction. He truly couldn't care less, could he? 

And Ginny _should_ care less.

After all, she was going to the Yule Ball with a kind, sweet, considerate, and wonderful boy.

So what if he wasn't Harry Potter?


End file.
